


Watch me make ‘em bow (one by one)

by xiuchenlay



Category: EXO (Band)
Genre: Aftercare, Alternate Universe - Royalty, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Blow Jobs, Choking, Cuddling & Snuggling, Cum Play, Dirty Talk, Face-Fucking, Light Bondage, M/M, Multiple Orgasms, Orgasm Delay/Denial, Overstimulation, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Possessiveness, Rimming, Rough Sex, Some Fluff, dom/sub dynamics, humiliation (just a bit)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-18
Updated: 2019-07-18
Packaged: 2020-07-07 17:00:55
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 13,990
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19855789
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/xiuchenlay/pseuds/xiuchenlay
Summary: As a king, Jongdae should kneel before no one. Yet, Chanyeol never fails to make him drop to his knees.





	Watch me make ‘em bow (one by one)

**Author's Note:**

> Idk how i managed to write 14k of smut...but i did. 
> 
> Soba I blame you for putting this idea in my head and encouraging this.
> 
> Please Enjoy!

Jongdae sighs as he steps through the large double doors at the end of the hallway that leads to his room. Finally, the banquet was over. His royal attire feels stiff after all the time he spent speaking to his guests—royalty from neighbouring nations—during said banquet. He was the host and the king so he was required to entertain them, flitting from royal to royal, a welcoming grin on his face as he pretended to be interested in the trivial gossip or politely declining a proposal from too-eager suitors. He’s perfectly of age to be married, and while having a spouse isn’t a requirement to rule the nation, it’s very much encouraged.

It was ridiculous the amount proposal’s he had received that evening, all in the name of ‘ _strengthening ties between nations_ ’, much to the displeasure of the head of his royal guard, Chanyeol, who trailed behind him the entire evening and had to witness each and every one of them firsthand. He hid a pleased smirk well when Jongdae politely took the ring with a promise to think about the offer. Truth be told, Jongdae wasn’t going to do much thinking at all and the ring would be sent back to the owner in a weeks time, along with a thoughtful letter of decline, so to give the illusion that he actually took the offer into consideration. 

Jongdae had no interest in all these suitors, not when his heart had long been claimed by Chanyeol. 

Chanyeol had been hired to be Jongdae’s personal guard a few years ago, after his previous one had thwarted an assassination attempt at the cost of his own life. Chanyeol had a promising track record and a decent amount of experience to boot, serving the prince of a neighbouring kingdom so the decision to hire him was instantaneous. When he had finally met his king, a tiny man who reached a couple inches past his chin with a cat-like smile and mischief in his eyes, he knew he had to have him. 

And have him he did. After months of flirting, coy grins, blatant stares and lingering touches that had both of them curling their toes in their shoes, Chanyeol pinned him to the wall in the secluded and silent east wing and had him right there, Jongdae's pants thrown to the side and his leg hooked onto the crook of Chanyeol’s arm, the angle allowing the latter to thrust impossibly deep.

“Mine,” Chanyeol had licked into his skin, scraping his teeth along the blunt of his jaw, thumb digging into his chin to push it upwards and the rest of his fingers splayed around the column of his throat. The words sank into Jongdae’s skin like a brand and he couldn’t agree quick enough, couldn’t give himself to him quick enough.

“ _Yes, yes, yes_ ,” Jongdae had gasped into the heated air, losing himself in the sharp pleasure and the way Chanyeol’s presence eclipsed anything and everything.

A little voice in the back of his head told him that he’d belonged to Chanyeol long before they had voiced it.

This still rang true today and it took everything in Chanyeol not to stake his claim right there in the ballroom, in front of everyone who looked at Jongdae in interest and everyone who didn’t so to deter them from ever doing so in the future. He follows behind Jongdae as he walks down the hallway, posture rigid and air serious. Jongdae’s personal servant walks alongside him, much more demure.

“Run me a bath,” Jongdae says to her, stopping to regard her. The request has two intentions: a bath did sound lovely at the moment and he wanted to speak with Chanyeol without a third party present.

“Right away your majesty.” 

With that, she scurries away. Jongdae doesn’t watch her go, too interested in the way the stiff cuts of Chanyeol’s royal guard uniform emphasizing his broad shoulders. Chanyeol’s hair is swept up and out of his face, still prim despite having been styled earlier in the day, and it makes Jongdae want to dig his fingers in it, wants to turn the neatness into a mess.

“Come by my quarters later,” Jongdae sweeps his gaze up Chanyeol’s body, appraising, not finding a reason to hide the blatant suggestion behind his request.

“Of course,” Chanyeol has something simmering in his gaze that has Jongdae’s throat going dry. His next words are nothing short of a purr and they have goosebumps crawling down Jongdae’s spine, “Your _majesty_.”

Jongdae hears that title every day, multiple times a day, but it sounds so different falling from Chanyeol’s tongue. There’s something about the way the vowels drip like warm honey, cloying, sticky, sweet but also hot, slow, torturing. It’s serves as a reminder of their situation, their status: a king and his guard. It’s taboo and would stir negative opinions if it were to somehow be discovered. Not that Jongdae ever cared about what others thought. Who he takes to bed, who he _loves_ , is none of their business anyway, even though everyone seems entitled to know every detail of his private life.

With a nod and the brush of hands, they part ways, both heading to their respective quarters which are conveniently right beside each other. It’s necessary for the king’s guard to reside very close to him, always within reach just in case anything were to happen. In this case, it also makes sneaking into each other’s rooms incredibly easy.

The bath is nearly filled when he walks into his bathroom, shoes clacking atop the marble floors. His servant is in the process of adding a few drops of his favourite scent into the water—vanilla. The sweet scent diffuses into the air and Jongdae always enjoys the way it clings to his skin long after he leaves the tub, not enough for him to smell like a cloud of sweetness but enough for anyone who lingers too close to catch the saccharine notes.

His servant doesn’t need to be prompted to undress him once she turns off the faucet. He lifts his arms and holds them straight out to the side of him so she can unravel the gold belt that sinches his waist, folding it neatly and placing onto the countertop. His deep red double breasted jacket with gold trim follows, her nimble fingers undoing the buttons with practiced ease. It continues similarly, removing various rings made from the finest gold. They make a tiny _clink_ against the countertop. He leaves his earrings in, never really going without the small gold hoops in both his ears. 

She knows to stop at his white shirt and pants, Jongdae much preferring to take those off himself and avoid her catching a glimpse of any incriminating marks Chanyeol’s keen on sucking into his skin. Servants are known to be notorious gossips so it would be better to not show her anything she could spread to the rest of the castle staff. His necessary ‘modesty’ has caused the staff to interpret his reluctance to undress in front of anyone as shyness. Jongdae snorts at that. He's anything but shy, least of all about his body.

“You’re dismissed,” Jongdae finally says and with a bow she takes the clothes she removed herself and leaves him. He toes off his shoes, sheds himself of his pants, shirts and undergarments, allowing them to pool onto the floor. He walks towards the clawfoot bathtub and dips a tentative toe in. The temperature is just this side of stinging, absolutely perfect, and he sighs blissfully as he sinks into water, enveloped in utter heat and relaxation. The water coaxes his previously tense muscles to relax and he slides down until only his head is above water, allowing it to soothe his shoulders and neck.

He luxuriates in the blissful heat for a while, stretching out his legs in bathtub much too large for one person, let alone someone as small as he is. Tiredness clings to his body, making him sink deeper into the water as thoughts flit through his mind. Chanyeol should be on his way and all Jongdae wants to do is stay in his arms, kiss him breathless. He'd noticed the way Chanyeol's jaw would tighten whenever a guest would come too close or be too bold with their advances. His displeasure was nonexistent to all but Jongdae, who could spot it from a mile away. 

But what could he do? Socializing and attention comes with his position and Jongdae can't exactly deny that he preens under all of it. He's sure that he could appease Chanyeol with his mouth, smooth down the annoyance and indignation with hot, wet kisses.

After ten minutes or so, Jongdae hears the padding of light footsteps and is quick to turn his head towards the sound, an involuntary smile growing on his face. The sight before him makes his breath hitch in his throat; Chanyeol letting his robe slide off his shoulders as he makes his way to the edge of the tub, miles of bronzed skin and muscles carved by years of combat training. He throws the robe to the side, it landing beside the pile of Jongdae's clothes

"Jongdae," Chanyeol says in lieu of an actual greeting and the shift of atmosphere, compared to outside the walls of Jongdae's room is palpable. In here, they’re just Chanyeol and Jongdae, just two lovers enjoying each other's company.

"Chanyeol," Jongdae echoes with a coy quirk of his lips, leaning and crossing his arms on the ledge of the bathtub and leaning his chin on his crossed arms. He leers, doing nothing to hide the way he's devouring every inch of Chanyeol with his gaze; he begins at his face, almond eyes, pink lips and a nice jawline. He follows the column of his neck to collarbones that he would love to suck marks into. A well muscled chest has him nearly sighing in pleasure.

"My eyes are up here you know," Chanyeol quips but his smirk is anything but annoyed.

"Hmm, I'm just admiring what's mine," Jongdae says with a wink, eyes meeting Chanyeol's equally as playful ones.

"Well you had your fun, are you going to let me in?"

"Maybe," Jongdae teases but he's already sliding forward to make enough space for Chanyeol to step in behind him. Chanyeol sits in the tub, long legs stretching out on either side of Jongdae and arms circling his impossibly small waist, pulling him flush against him. The water slowly settles and calms around them as their movements cease. Chanyeol feels solid, comfortable, behind him and Jongdae can't help but melt in his embrace. 

“Did you enjoy yourself tonight?” Chanyeol asks after a brief period of comfortable silence stretches between them, fingers rubbing circles into Jongdae's soft skin.

Jongdae leans further into the warmth of Chanyeol’s bare chest, eyes closed and a pleased hum escaping him, “I did.”

Chanyeol’s arms suddenly tighten as irritation fills his chest at the ease with which he answers, drawing a surprised sound from the other. He presses his mouth to the shell of Jongdae’s ear, breath hot and lowers his voice dangerously, “Oh so you enjoyed having Prince Baekhyun all over you? Or did you prefer the way King Minseok undressed you with his eyes? Did you wish he actually did? Wish you could sneak into a spare room and have him take you apart?”

Jongdae’s throat goes dry at the images that assault him. The thought of Minseok’s hands, small but strong, on him, his smirk against his neck in a shadowed secluded room, melds with the gravelly tone of Chanyeol’s voice and it has him swallowing down a groan as a pang of arousal spills into his gut. 

Chanyeol’s fingers skim down the flat planes of his abdomen, nails lightly scratching the sensitive skin and it has jongdae letting out a small gasp as he arches into the touch. His large hand rests in the space between his hip bones, following the trail of dark hair to just above where Jongdae wants him and it has him tilting his hips. Just a little closer, a little closer and—

Chanyeol pins him down against the bare expanse of his torso—a firm chest and corrugated abs—with an arm that would make the finest Greek statues weep in envy. He’s so much stronger than Jongdae. The latter couldn’t even break out of the vice like hold if he tried, is tempted to try it if only for the way he’ll quickly be put in his place. For the way Chanyeol would keep him in place despite his struggles, then would hold him tighter still to the point of it hurting just enough to ensure that the force will be evident on his skin the next morning. 

The touch on Jongdae’s lower stomach is suddenly gone, pulling him from his thoughts, and he barely has enough time to whimper at the loss before those same fingers are pressing into the blunt of his jaw. The pressure is nothing short of forceful as Chanyeol angles Jongdae’s head so he can now look directly into his eyes. Chanyeol’s expression scream _danger_ with a touch of irritation, mouth twisted into a frown and eyes promising, testing. 

“I asked you a question,” He says firmly, thumb trailing from Jongdae’s jaw to his bottom lip, slightly pulling the plush flesh lower. Jongdae’s curled, long lashes flutter.

He swallows heavily before answering, voice clearly affected but stubborn.

“I didn’t enjoy it.”

Chanyeol hums thoughtfully, before his gaze suddenly sharpens, grip more painful than before, “I think you’re lying. You know how much I hate it when you lie to me.”

“Chanyeol,” Jongdae whines at the sudden pain. Images of bruises on his skin, a watercolour of purples and blues have his cock hardening in the hot water. Chanyeol takes notice, quick to wrap his other hand around it, a wanton sound filling the air and echoing off the walls. Jongdae thrusts into the firm hold, “Chanyeol _please_.”

“Liars don’t deserve more than this,” Chanyeol concludes, taking in the flushed pink of Jongdae’s cheeks, unsure if it’s caused by him or the heat of the water or even both put together. He decides he doesn’t care. It’s pretty anyways. Jongdae’s about to protest but Chanyeol cuts him off. 

“Get yourself off with my hand. It’s that or nothing at all.”

Jongdae wrestles with the ultimatum. Chanyeol’s hands are rough, calloused from years of training with a sword and the texture has Jongdae’s hips making the decision for him, canting into the tight grip. Chanyeol allows Jongdae to return his head to its previous position, this time tilted back against shoulder, mouth hanging open with heavy breaths. Redness mars Jongdae’s jawline in the shape of fingers and Chanyeol thinks that he looks the prettiest of all with _his_ marks so obvious on his skin. 

The water sloshes in the bathtub, Jongdae fucking into Chanyeol’s hand frantically. Heels anchored into the porcelain allow him to set a pace that has him moaning with abandon. Chanyeol decides to help out a little, rubbing a thumb over Jongdae’s nipple, the half surprised, half around aroused sound the latter releases is nothing short of delightful. He can’t help but grind against that perky ass as his own arousal simmers in his veins, leaving sloppy wet kisses along the side of Jongdae’s neck

“Fuck,” Jongdae says into the steam filled air when teeth bite into his sensitive skin, not enough to break the skin but enough to leave a bruise that will force him to wear turtlenecks for weeks. The tendons in his neck strain as he presents more skin for Chanyeol to taint. Chanyeol isn’t one to ignore such a blatant invitation and this time his tongue joins the party, the press of it hotter than the steaming water they’re submerged in. He sucks a mark that has Jongdae gasping, right beneath his ear where his jaw ends. Jongdae’s skin is a blank canvas and his tongue and teeth are his tools—brushes and paint used to create a painting that speaks debauchery, of desperation, of _possession_ in the blend of purples and blues. It’s a claim just short of Chanyeol writing his name along the tendon that lines the stretch of neck.

“You’re so pretty, all desperate and worked up, all for _me_ ,” Chanyeol swipes his thumb along the sensitive spot beneath the head of Jongdae’s cock.

“Yes, _yes_ , all for you,” Jongdae chokes out when Chanyeol does it again. Cries when he dips into the slit. He can feel the heat, the tightness build and coil in the pit of his gut, every thrust of his hips pushing him closer and closer to the edge. Chanyeol’s teeth have traveled to his shoulder now, cock hot and heavy, _just_ slipping between Jongdae’s cheeks on every odd grind. It’s teasing, a promise of what’s to come, because he’s started something he doesn’t want to end. Not anytime soon. Jongdae clutches at the forearm sitting just above his hip bones, desperation seeping through his pores, anchoring itself in the very marrow of his bones. He feels like he might drown in it, breath coming in staccato gasps and the crescents he digs into Chanyeol’s wrist bone are the only thing keeping him from going under.

Chanyeol knows when Jongdae’s close. Jongdae’s thrusts become shorter, rapid, no longer going through the entire range of motion. He's tensed, hips lifted, thighs taught, the burn in his muscles adding to the pleasure in his veins that’s threatening to boil ever. He’s all hitched breaths, unable to even consider forming any coherent words, arching into Chanyeol’s grip and eyes shut. The pleasure builds, builds, _builds_ , spreading to the very tip of toes, tips of his fingers, clutching the back of Chanyeol’s much larger hand, pushing it into the ribs that press against the skin, allowing it to curl around his rib cage so he could feel it expand and heave. His breaths grow shallow, Chanyeol deciding to lend him a helping hand, squeezing whilst thumbing at the underside of the head of his cock. 

Water spills over the edge of the tub as Jongdae shifts onto his toes, so close he can taste it on the tip of his tongue, so close Chanyeol can feel his stomach _clench._ Clench as the coil _tightens, tightens, tightens_ and—

Chanyeol’s fingers form a tight ring around the base of his cock, stopping him right at the precipice, Jongdae’s mouth open in a silent gasp. His hips are suspended in the air, back frozen in an arch, on the very tips of his toes. A pathetic whimper comes from the back of his throat. 

“No, no, _please,_ I was so close,” Jongdae manages to get out, voice wrecked, body trembling with the _need_ to come. 

“You don’t get to,” Chanyeol’s voice is so deep it reverberates in Jongdae’s bones, tone dark and almost amused, “Not now, at least. Maybe later I’ll reconsider.”

Jongdae groans as he feels his orgasm start to leave him, ebbs painfully and so so slowly. His body trembles and his thighs shake as they slowly lower into the water and he's once again flush with Chanyeol’s front. He wants to scream in frustration, turn around and sink his teeth into Chanyeol’s neck but he doesn’t.

Chanyeol kisses Jongdae’s neck sweetly, lovingly. He can read Jongdae’s thoughts well, the kiss a reward for not giving into his indignation. It’s a stark contrast from his previous actions and Jongdae knows that it’s the last he’ll be seeing of this side of him for awhile, allows himself to luxuriate in it for a moment. 

“Get out and dry yourself.”

_Ah, there it is_ , Jongdae thinks as he stands on shaky legs. The tenderness could only last for so long. He gets out and Chanyeol follows, the two grabbing a towel to dry themselves. Jongdae avoids between his legs even though his cock is throbbing and begging to be touched. He’s not allowed to touch himself unless Chanyeol gives him permission.

“Bedroom. Get on the bed and lie on your back," is the only thing Chanyeol says next and Jongdae practically runs. Anticipation joins the aching arousal in his gut, curling and blending into a dangerous combination that has his heart beating a rapid thrum. The four poster bed awaits him with sheets of deep red silk. The silk is smooth against his bare skin as he positions himself in the center like Chanyeol asked him to. Chanyeol’s not far behind him, having stopped to remove the bath plug. He drops one knee onto the bed and then another, crawling up to where Jongdae’s laying down. Jongdae’s skin is tinged pink from the heat of the bath. The simple stretch of his slim legs is wanton. The hardness between those legs even more so. 

All his. All his for him to play with. 

He settles over him, hands on either side of Jongdae’s head. Their eyes meet, communicating twin want, need, a fire simmering in their veins. Jongdae glances down to Chanyeol’s lips for a second and that’s all it takes for Chanyeol to dip down and kiss him. The kiss is rough, demanding, stealing Jongdae’s breath along with some of his sanity, taking, taking, taking. It's their first since this morning, since Chanyeol had snuck out of Jongdae’s bed with a chaste, brief kiss before Jongdae began the long, arduous process of getting ready for the banquet.

Jongdae reciprocates eagerly, wrapping his arms around Chanyeol’s neck to tug him closer still. Their bare chests brush against each other, still slightly damp from the rush they had dried themselves in. Chanyeol uses his tongue to coax the kiss into something slicker, hotter, something that has a low moan escaping Jongdae. A low moan which Chanyeol eagerly swallows, shifting to rest his weight onto his forearms, the space between their bodies rendered practically nonexistent.

Chanyeol’s cock brushes the sensitive skin where Jongdae’s inner thigh meets his pelvis and it has him tangling his fingers in Chanyeol's hair and _tugging_ , feeling more than hearing the resulting rumble of a groan that comes from deep in Chanyeol’s chest. The stinging of his scalp simply fuels the latter’s hunger, taking Jongdae’s lower lip between his teeth and biting until Jongdae lets out a small noise of pain. He soothes the sting with a swipe of his tongue. Jongdae can feel hot wetness drip from Chanyeol’s cock onto him and collect into the valley formed by his jutting hip bone. He can feel how much their hot bruising kisses, how much his noises are turning Chanyeol on and it has the deep ache in him deepening further. He tries to drown the pants escaping him in the very mouth drawing them from him. Chanyeol shifts in response, angling their mouths so he can lick impossibly deeper. 

The movement causes his thigh to press into Jongdae’s aching arousal, the first contact since he had been cruelly denied his release, a merciful pressure that has Jongdae keening, raking nails down broad shoulder blades and grinding into a touch that’s not enough at first but the tilt of his hips makes it so.

“Enough,” A large hand suddenly and forcefully pins his hips to the bed, wrenching him from the pleasure he was chasing. Chanyeol’s voice shocks him out of his reverie, akin to a bucket of ice cold water being dumped onto his head. Chanyeol’s other arm stays by Jongdae’s head, bicep flexing as it supports his weight. 

“Jongdae, Jongdae, Jongdae,” He clicks his tongue in disappointment, said emotion obvious in the furrow of his brow and apprehension swirls in Jongdae’s chest, “Why do you keep misbehaving? First you lied to me, now you broke a rule.”

The rules are simple.

  1. Jongdae can’t touch himself in any way unless given permission.
  2. Jongdae can’t come unless given permission. 



Jongdae doesn’t have anything to say to that. It’s completely true but he isn’t about to apologize for it. He doesn’t say sorry, he _isn’t_ sorry. Chanyeol knows this very well and is prepared to _make_ him sorry.

“Get off the bed and on your fucking knees,” Chanyeol grits out and pushes off of the smaller to allow him to obey. Jongdae can’t listen quick enough, nearly tumbling onto the floor when he slips on the silk. His heart races in his chest. He knows what’s approaching, what Chanyeol is expecting of him and instead of nervous it makes him excited. He plants his knees into the plush carpet and waits for Chanyeol to make his way over to him.

Chanyeol moves over to the edge of the bed, inching closer before Jongdae’s face is level with his cock. It’s flushed prettily and angrily, having gone untouched the entire night and Jongdae wants to put it in his mouth, practically salivating at the thought, so he does, at least partially. Chanyeol moans in surprise, fingers immediately tangling themselves into Jongdae’s black hair as heat envelops the head of his cock. Jongdae’s tongue flicks the sensitive underside before it dips into the slit, tasting the precome that nearly started dripping before he managed to catch it. He repeats the nasty trick a few times, gaze lifting to meet Chanyeol’s and defiance shining bright beneath his fluttery lashes. His hand comes to hold his length as he takes more of it into his mouth, not too much but enough to have Chanyeol’s hips hitching. Jongdae goads him with each torturous swirl of his tongue, with dark eyes that _dare_ him to act.

The subsequent tightening of the grip in Jongdae’s hair, just this side of painful, is exactly what he was waiting for: A warning and a promise all at once. 

“Stop teasing,” Chanyeol’s voice is just a touch affected but nonetheless firm in a way that has Jongdae shuddering. Jongdae hums in response, simply inching lower until his lips touch the hand wrapped around the base. His mouth welcomes the weight of Chanyeol’s cock on his tongue, the length teasing at the back of his throat. It’s entirely familiar. He’s sucked him off so many times. He loves it every single time, every second, makes a show of it too, allowing his eyes to shut and expression fall into bliss as he lifts back up to suck on the tip teasingly before bobbing back down again, a toe-curling rhythm in the making.

Chanyeol watches in awe at the picture before him, Jongdae sucking him off with an eagerness, shocked at how beautiful Jongdae is, all carved cheekbones, sharp jawline and slanted brows. His pink kitten lips, turned red with abuse, steal the show, stretched obscenely around Chanyeol's cock. Chanyeol can't help but drag his thumb along Jongdae's upper lip, following the curve it takes on to accommodate him and lingering at the natural curl at the corner. Jongdae instinctively leans into the touch.

"You're just made for sucking cock, aren't you?" Chanyeol says between laboured breaths, pleasure flooding his veins, digging his teeth into his lip as Jongdae hollows his cheeks and sucks harder in agreement, "Your pretty mouth was made just for this—just for me to use."

Jongdae knows by the way Chanyeol's speaking, the shake to his voice, the implication behind his words, what he wants, knows Chanyeol's deepest desires, what he craves, what he needs; they've been together so long, learned each other so well that Jongdae pulls off Chanyeol in the next moment, tongue coming to lick the taste off his own lips.

"Use me then," His voice is rough and scratchy but sure and the offer has Chanyeol groaning deeply, a painful pang of arousal making even the tips of his fingers ache. He wastes no time in replacing Jongdae's hand with his own, holding his cock steady as he presses it into the swell of Jongdae's bottom lip, following the curve of it before moving on to the top one. All the while, Jongdae squeezes Chanyeol's bare thigh at the teasing touch and his heavy gaze. It has him rutting into the air, desperate for friction, for anything at all. After Chanyeol reaches the leftmost curl, he drags it upwards and runs it along Jongdae's defined cheekbones, leaving a glistening trail of hot precome that shines in the light, matching the shine on his lips. A tongue darts out to taste it and Chanyeol is there in a second, the press of his cock into Jongdae's lips now firm, a clear message. Jongdae parts his lips obligingly.

He feeds his length to Jongdae slowly, tilting his head back with a rough exhale to relish in the wet heat and the purposeful and unrelenting press of tongue on the underside. The rock of his hips is shallow at first, Jongdae relaxing his jaw and throat in preparation. He firmly holds Chanyeol's gaze, knowing how good he looks like this, knowing how it never fails to make Chanyeol weak in the knees.

It’s enough to have Chanyeol letting go of himself and firmly gripping the back of Jongdae’s neck. That’s all the warning Jongdae gets before Chanyeol fucks into his mouth in one smooth thrust that has him nearly choking, scrambling to steady himself with hands on either of Chanyeol’s thighs. He’s given no reprieve, rapid, deep thrusts obliging him to breathe through his nose as he forces his gag reflex to relent.

Chanyeol forces him to take it all, every inch into his throat until involuntary tears are welling up from it being nearly too much. The sight before him is too much, too lewd, Jongdae taking his cock eagerly and hungrily. The heat of his mouth is similarly too much, wet, slick, throat fluttering around him in a way that has him cursing under his breath, has him thrusting that much harder just to see Jongdae choke around him. Just to feel the way his throat constricts around him as it protests, the sensation nothing short of heavenly.

“Look at you,” Chanyeol groans out when saliva begins to leak down Jongdae’s chin. The power he has over him at the moment is overwhelming and the resulting burst of adrenaline that fills his veins at the thought has him panting out more words, “Just look at you. You’re so pretty with your mouth stretching around me, so desperate, aren’t you, _my king_?”

The title has Jongdae sucking in a breath through his nose, eyes sharpening.

“That’s what you are, isn’t it?” Chanyeol’s words fall like molten lead dripped between Jongdae’s shoulder blades, following the curve of his spine with every centimeter it crawls. He continues, hips rocking faster, pulling at dark, soft locks so he can reach that much deeper. "You're my king and yet here you are on your knees with a cock stuffed in your mouth," Jongdae moans low in his throat, the sound desperate and muffled. The vibrations have Chanyeol gritting out his words but it only adds to the sheer possessiveness roughening the edges.

“What would everyone say if they saw you?” 

Nails dig into the flesh of Chanyeol’s thigh at the shame that fills Jongdae’s chest. There's the thought of eyes on him as he, their _King_ , services another, another who belongs beneath him. 

“What if they knew the way you bend to me? The way you drop to your knees when I tell you to, or bend yourself over your desk and present your perky little ass for me to take—” teeth lightly scrape along the underside of his length as he draws back, breath hitching and fingers pulling harder. Jongdae closes his eyes as images flash before them, of their clandestine and filthy encounters, reminding him of the burning _need_ that can only be sated by the touch of Chanyeol’s hands, the heat of his mouth, the press of his cock in his mouth, inside him and it has Jongdae’s own spitting precome onto the burgundy carpet beneath him, darkening the fibres.

He’s so hard, so needy, so desperate, all shallow breaths and aching jaw, lower stomach aching with the need to finally come, so, so turned on, he feels like he can’t see straight. Chanyeol above him isn’t helping much, spewing filthy promises and claims as he uses his mouth to his liking that only add fuel to Jongdae’s debauched state. A thin sheen of sweat covers Chanyeol’s abdomen, highlighting the toned surface and also drawing attention to the way his muscles bunch as he nears his end.

“Shit, Jongdae,” Chanyeol notices the wet patch in the carpet beneath Jongdae, notices the fact that Jongdae is _dripping_ from just having him in his mouth and really that’s all it takes for Chanyeol’s orgasm to suddenly crest, throwing his head back in a deep guttural moan. His hips stutter as blood rushes in his ears and fire courses through his veins and he comes in Jongdae’s mouth. Jongdae works him through it, hollowing his cheeks further and swallowing the bitterness that coats his tongue. Chanyeol pulls out at the last second, dragging whatever Jongdae hasn’t yet swallowed out along with it. It drips down his chin lewdly and Jongdae goes to lick it away but suddenly, he’s being hoisted up into Chanyeol lap with a tongue at his chin. Chanyeol drags his release up and pushes it between Jongdae’s slightly parted lips before licking into his mouth.

Chanyeol can taste himself in the kiss, the saltiness shared between them. Jongdae eagerly kisses back, pouring his need into sucking it all off of Chanyeol's tongue with a whine and letting it slide down his throat. Chanyeol suddenly snaking a hand between them and wrapping his hand around Jongdae’s cock has Jongdae throwing his head back with a high noise.

"Chanyeol, oh my god," He breathes out because finally, _finally_ , he gets the friction he needs and this time, it's given to him, Chanyeol jerking him off just how he likes, grip tight, quick, twisting on the upstroke, using precome to ease the glide. With teeth at his throat, to the left of his pronounced adam's apple, scraping the spot that never fails to have his toes curling, Jongdae finds himself about to come in an amount of time that would have been embarrassing had he not been teased for so long.

His eyes roll back in his head as he feels it pool in his gut like lava, thick and heavy. He clutches at Chanyeol's shoulders, body going taught.

" _Close_ ," he manages to whimper out, he needs one more stroke, one more and it's all over. 

Only, the telltale tightness at the base of his cock stops him right before the drop, right as he's about to tip over and lose himself to the swell of pleasure. Even his breath freezes in his lungs, and he can't be blamed for the way he digs his nails into the bronze skin of Chanyeol's shoulders, adding to the scratches and crescents he dug there.

Chanyeol can feel the way he's shaking in his arms, pulls him closer by the waist—fingers still firmly tight around him, a makeshift cockring—and places a (non)apologetic kiss above his adam's apple. 

The slightly wet touch helps Jongdae find his voice, "Fuck you."

"I’ll fuck _you_. In due time," Chanyeol barks a raspy laugh against the column of his throat that has Jongdae wanting to strangle him. That being said, he doesn't think he has the strength to do so at the moment and well, despite the murderous urge, he very much prefers Chanyeol alive. Chanyeol soothes a hand down his spine before he tilts them both to the side, the two landing onto the mattress. 

Jongdae finds himself in the center of the bed, closer to the headboard, practically manhandled along the way. He doesn’t mind, not when his limbs feel like overcooked noodles and maybe, just maybe, the way Chanyeol picks him up and moves him around like he’s nothing has him masking a shudder. Chanyeol kisses him, hot and wet for a moment, once he’s settled, but pulls away before Jongdae even has a chance to reciprocate, clasping his large hands around Jongdae’s thin wrists and pinning them above his head.

“Don’t move,” Chanyeol says and waits for Jongdae to nod before he's off the bed and rifling through a drawer that Jongdae keeps locked save for when they need the contents inside: lube, rope, and silk ties. Jongdae turns his head to take in the look of concentration on the other’s face as he decides between the two restraints with wide eyes and a throat as dry as the desert. Anticipation prompts goosebumps to form on every inch of his skin.

Chanyeol makes his decision, settling for the rope and returns with that and the lube in hand. Dropping the lube by Jongdae’s side, he regards Jongdae with an expression that has the latter’s heart in his throat.

“Safe word?” He asks, tone serious as he cups Jongdae’s face, thumbing at his cheekbone.

Jongdae melts into the touch with a sigh, turning his head to press lips to his palm. He holds his gaze as he breathes out: “Fire.”

With that, Chanyeol’s reaching for the wrists Jongdae has kept over his head, making quick but meticulous work, tying the rope around each of them. Jongdae knows the drill by now, the two having lost count of how many times they’ve done this. 

(The first was Chanyeol’s hands shaking with nervousness as he kept messing up the knots that he spent weeks practicing on the bedpost then on Jongdae’s wrist. A similar state of anxiety had Jongdae’s heart racing as he allowed himself to be tied up but his deeply instilled trust in Chanyeol kept it from putting a stop to the entire thing. 

How could he when Chanyeol was so timid, so sweet when he asked, the two beneath the covers, eyes so eager? How could he when the thought of it had arousal blooming in his gut, excitement and curiousity outweighing his apprehension? When he found he wanted it just as much?)

Now, he simply moves his hand and wrists around to make sure the hold is tight and sturdy but not enough to truly hurt. At his reassuring nod, Chanyeol then reaches over to tie it to the left and right bedposts with nimble and practiced fingers. Jongdae once again tests the bindings, unprompted, pulling to make sure it doesn’t give, muscles in his arms flexing with the effort. 

“It’s fine,” Jongdae concludes, already breathless at feeling of the supple rope encasing the delicate skin of his wrists. He’s truly bound, at Chanyeol’s mercy, and his pulse skyrockets when he notices the lecherous gaze fixed upon him. 

“Beautiful,” Chanyeol says, an observation, a statement and a praise all in one.

And Jongdae truly is, miles of smooth pale skin stretched across the complimenting deep red silk that Chanyeol had chosen for that very reason. Jongdae flushes at the attention but he’s given no time to truly feel embarrassed because, in the next moment, Chanyeol is above him once more, mouth latched to the column of his neck, licking over the marks that have already formed. Before Jongdae even finishes exhaling in surprise, Chanyeol’s moved on to the jut of collarbones, appraising them with the scrape of teeth.

Jongdae trembles, goosebumps breaking out beneath the teasing touches. His hand twitches so to bury itself in Chanyeol’s hair and hold him to his skin but the rope stops him immediately, going taught. The obvious reminder of his restricted state causes him to dig his teeth into his bottom lip. Chanyeol licking down his sternum has him drawing blood.

“You’re a fucking tease,” Jongdae breathes out, licking away the red.

“Am I?” Chanyeol asks coyly, looking up at Jongdae. He maintains eye contact as he flicks his tongue over his nipple, while lightly toying with the other.

“Fuck,” Jongdae arches into it, eyelids fluttering at the sensation, “You _know_ you are.”

Chanyeol smirks as he switches to the other, this time implementing a little teeth and his grin widens at the little sounds it draws from Jongdae. He doesn’t linger too long, enough to leave them slightly red and slick and he pulls back to thumb over one thoughtfully, the calloused surface causing Jongdae to shiver.

“You should get them pierced,” He concludes. The picture of a gold barbel through one or both of them, glinting in the light, beneath his tongue, between his teeth, causes him to harden again, seeking more friction against the thigh beneath him. Jongdae helps, raising his thigh, adding to the pressure and Chanyeol rewards him with a deep mark sucked above a rib. He makes his way down, tasting the salt of his skin as he goes.

“Should I?” Jongdae hums, nearly forgetting he had said anything at all, eyes falling shut for a moment as Chanyeol licks at the sensitive spot right on the inside of his hip bone. Chanyeol spares a glance upward, at Jongdae’s face, lips red, brows pinched in pleasure and it makes sheer want boil in his veins, a want to see how he looks when he’s brought to the edge, teased to the point of incoherence, then finally allowed to fall. He wants to _break_ Jongdae, over and over again, before pulling him back together.

“It would suit you, would look pretty,” Chanyeol sucks a bruise beside his bellybutton, enjoying the way he feels the muscles tense beneath his mouth. His chin bumps into Jongdae’s cock. It’s flushed prettily, and angrily, having been denied release twice already, leaking precome onto his stomach, precome which he hungrily laps up before dipping his tongue into the slit of Jongdae’s cock to taste it from the source.

“Chanyeol _,”_ Jongdae whines out, hips chasing the other’s fleeting tongue but he’s pressed down into the mattress, and then teeth sink into the inside of his thigh and he’s whining for other reasons, “ _Chanyeol!”_

Jongdae’s offered no immediate response besides an apologetic lick over the spot that was just abused. Chanyeol admires the redness left behind, stark against the pale, soft skin, admires the thickness of his thigh too, how it’s well muscled but still soft, like it was made to dig his fingers or teeth into, flesh giving the perfect amount. He’d like to spend more time doing so, but he shelves it for later, focusing on the more urgent task of tormenting the other. He grabs the lube to the side of them, feeling the weight of eyes on him the entire time, but he doesn’t open it, not yet.

Instead, he drags his hand down Jongdae’s side, down the side of his ribs, his tiny, tiny waist, before curling around his hip bone. He watches the rise and fall of his chest, sees the desperation in his blown pupils. 

And it’s all for him.

“What do you want?” Chanyeol thumbs over the jut of his hip bone almost reverently.

Jongdae swallows heavily, shakily, tongue licking over his lips, “I want to come.”

Chanyeol considers the request, “Okay. Why do you think I haven’t let you?”

“I don’t know,” Jongdae says, stubbornness to his jaw even though he isn’t in any position to be pushing buttons at the moment.

And, oh, that’s the wrong answer.

“That’s fine,” Chanyeol flicks open the cap of the lube, feigning nonchalance, and thoroughly coats his fingers. He pushes Jongdae’s legs further apart, partially aided by Jongdae’s own eagerness to spread them. Wet fingers trail down the curve of his ass and he can hear Jongdae’s breath hitch in anticipation. He takes his time, circling a finger around his rim a few times.

“Please,” Jongdae begs, trying to cant towards a touch that’s simply not enough, in hopes of more, but there’s no give to his restraints. 

“Please what?” Chanyeol prompts, not ceasing his teasing, and Jongdae has half a mind to kick him in the head. He dips his finger in the tiniest bit, enough to have Jongdae fluttering around him but it’s gone as soon as it came.

“Please _touch_ me,” Jongdae says, voice rough with frustration.

“I am touching you,” and if looks could kill, in that moment, Chanyeol would be six feet under. Jongdae is stubborn, Chanyeol just as much; Chanyeol wanting nothing more than to _ruin_ him and Jongdae trying to keep him from the satisfaction of seeing him ruined, just because he can. But, in this case, Chanyeol is at a clear advantage; Jongdae looks about two strokes from coming, desperation clear in the way he seems to tremble.

“ _Chan_ ,” he squirms against his restraints, rope already beginning to chafe around his wrists, not painful but a biting reminder that he’s not the one in charge of the situation. Chanyeol offers no reaction besides the quirk of his mouth. An embarrassed flush adds to the one already on dusted upon Jongdae’s cheeks, deepening the colour.

“I want your...fingers,” he manages to get out, begrudgingly. He elaborates before Chanyeol asks him to clarify, “I want them inside me.”

Yet, Chanyeol makes no move to give Jongdae what he wants, instead regarding him with a quirked brow, “You want my fingers? Are you sure?”

“What the fuck?” Of course he’s sure. “ _Yes_.”

“Do you want mine?” he pauses, “Or do you want Prince Baekhyun’s?” a sharp intake of breath that Chanyeol enjoys, “I’m sure he’d love to have you like this, he’s _taken_ by you, offering you that ring with pink champagne diamonds—your favourite. He’s so eager, wants you so bad. His fingers are so nice, so long, I bet they’d feel amazing inside you.”

A tiny shudder runs though Jongdae, his hips twitching into the ghost of a touch, the ghost of pale, slim fingers, pretty fingers, long enough to reach places his own smaller ones struggle to. He doesn’t disagree.

“They would,”Jongdae says, swallowing to wet his dry as sand throat. Chanyeol freezes, caught off guard, clearly not expecting him to agree. Jongdae continues on, holding his gaze with his own that burns with desire, “They would, but I’ll always prefer yours.”

And that, _that_ , is the answer Chanyeol wasn’t expecting but it’s right anyways.

The next thing he knows, two fingers slide into him without any preamble. Chanyeol surges up to muffle the tail end of Jongdae’s moan with his mouth. Hand cupping his jaw, he kisses him filthily, tracing the peculiar curve of his teeth with his tongue, before hooking his fingers, dragging over his prostate, as he pulls them out. This has Jongdae keening through a full body shudder, back bowing because it’s _too much_ , _too fast_. Despite that, he chases the pleasure that centres deep in his gut, anchored down to his core, with frantic hips. Chanyeol is merciful, giving him what he wants, fucking into him at a controlled pace.

Jongdae wasn’t lying. Nothing is better than Chanyeol’s fingers, so long and thick. Only two are needed to stretch him so nicely it has him sighing through the burn, throwing his head back into the mattress, breaking their kiss with a whimper.

“Shit shit shit,” he pants into the heated air, brows slanted in pleasure, “Don’t stop.”

Chanyeol takes that as an invitation to press the pads of his fingers into his sweet spot, rather than dragging them over it, and _rub._ The direct and incessant simulation tears a groan from Jongdae’s throat, thighs clamping around Chanyeol’s wrist. His eyes shut of their own volition, and he feels heat build, build, _build_ inside of him slower but so much stronger than before. Every inch of his skin is akin to a live wire, so much so that the simple press of lips to his jaw has a shiver crawling down his spine. His veins flow with molten lava, chest heaving and shining with a sheen of sweat as trembling gasps escape him. It’s _too much_ and he’s been edged for too long. The coil in his gut keeps tightening but hasn’t managed to snap just yet, and he’s almost scared of what will happen when it does. 

More than that, he isn’t sure if he'll be able to handle being denied so cruelly this time.

“Chanyeol, let me come," Jongdae's desperation leaks into his voice, the tremble of it, the gasp when fingers are crooked just right, leaks into the way his body is tensed, into the way his eyebrows are slanted upwards in the center, " _please._ "

"Okay," Chanyeol pets down Jongdae's stomach, feeling the flat plane, the dark trail of hair, the accumulated wetness that leaked from Jongdae's neglected cock, appreciating the way it quivers beneath his touch. He's feeling less sadistic after Jongdae's previous admittance. He can physically see as well as hear the shaky sigh of relief that escapes the other's body.

"Only from my fingers." A sudden purposeful jab for emphasis draws a high keen.

_Less_ sadistic is the key word.

Chanyeol can tell that Jongdae is mere moments from coming, barely capable of answering him, voice giving way to breathy pants, choked curses that he feels through the vibrations in his throat as he mouths at his pulse. The slick sounds from between Jongdae’s legs only increase as he twists his wrist harder, more than enough for Jongdae to find his voice in a cry that sounds a lot like _close_ , _Chan, so close._

“Come then,” He aligns his teeth with the bite mark already bruising Jongdae’s neck and bites down _hard_ —and it’s game over. Jongdae arches off the bed, pulling the ropes taught as he spills onto the clenching muscles of his stomach with a choked gasp. Chanyeol works him through the overwhelming onslaught of pleasure despite the cramp in his fingers and the way Jongdae’s thighs clench around his wrist like they were his last hold on sanity. Works him until the full-body quakes have dissipated into residual trembles and twitches, body slowly coming out of its arch and voice protesting his sensitivity as he squirms _away_ rather than towards unlike a few seconds prior.

“S— _stop_.”

Chanyeol does, ceasing the movement of his fingers and then gently coaxing his thighs apart so he can remove them, Jongdae fluttering around the sudden emptiness. He soothes a hand down either of them to untense his muscles then noses his way into a chaste, deep kiss cupping his jaw, making Jongdae melt into the sheets, ropes going slack. Jongdae feels like he's been taken apart and is slowly being put back together piece by piece with every touch, the white noise in his head slowly fading. Chanyeol wipes his lube slick fingers onto the bed sheets only to drag them through the mess of come and precome splattered across his abdomen.

They're slick once more when Chanyeol rests two of them on Jongdae's bottom lip, the latter's mouth parted slightly as he tries to catch his breath. It takes a moment for Jongdae to register what Chanyeol's asking from him, mind still trying to figure out how to reboot itself. But then he's taking the fingers into his mouth, sucking his own come off of them, running his tongue between and around, gaze dark and dazed beneath a fan of generous curled lashes all the while. Chanyeol breathes a curse, catching his fingers on his bottom teeth as he removes them to gather more and this time Jongdae’s already ready to put them in his mouth, to suck them clean. Soon enough, there's nothing left for Chanyeol to feed to Jongdae save for a little at the corner of his mouth that is taken care of by a swipe of his own tongue. Jongdae chases him for a kiss but Chanyeol pulls back, if only to enjoy the pout his actions cause.

Watching Jongdae lost in the throes of pleasure, followed by his little show, has left Chanyeol so hard he's _aching_. After a second of contemplation, he decides he would rather have Jongdae untied for the rest of what he has planned. It doesn’t take long for him to have the ropes unfastened and set on the bedside table, Jongdae rubbing at his wrists and flexing his hands.

“You’re okay?” Chanyeol takes them into his own hands carefully, pleased to note that, besides some redness, they seem fine.

“Fine,” Jongdae assures with a lazy smile. Sure, the skin is a bit red and raw and the light rub of Chanyeol’s touch stings, but it’s nothing to worry about. When Chanyeol lets go, reassured, Jongdae immediately wraps his arms around his neck and tugs him down into a simmering kiss. He’s so overjoyed he can finally _touch_ to his content, gripping the dark hair at the base of his neck and tugging to elicit a gasp so he can tongue into Chanyeol’s parted mouth. Chanyeol reciprocates with fervor, kissing him so deeply Jongdae whines before he pulls away to situate himself between Jongdae’s legs. He’s quick to slick himself up with the discarded bottle of lube, a little too generous in his haste that the excess leaks onto the sheets beneath Jongdae’s ass.

Jongdae’s throat goes dry, heart beating a hummingbird thrum, as Chanyeol runs his hand along the inside of his thigh, pausing a moment to press into the bite mark he left to send a light throb of pain to join the anticipation in his veins. One hand curls around Jongdae’s hip, the grip promising. The other that was spreading the lube is now holding the base of his cock and he meets Jongdae’s eyes, something akin to molten heat communicated between them, lining up with Jongdae’s rim. 

The eye contact is broken the moment he presses in, Jongdae’s eyes fluttering shut. His mouth falls open with a groan as he tilts his hips to ease the slide. It’s slick, smooth, but he still feels the burn, two fingers not quite enough to prepare him for the thickness of an actual cock. He takes pleasure in it, biting his lower lip and wrapping his legs around Chanyeol’s waist to spur him to fill him even more. Chanyeol pauses when his hip bones rest flush against the back of his thighs, fully seated inside Jongdae. 

The two of them pant into the air, relishing in the sensations of filling and being filled, the heat of Jongdae's body, the tightness, the stretch of Chanyeol's cock, the fullness. 

God, there is nothing better than this in the entire world.

"Fuck," Chanyeol grabs Jongdae's other hip with his wet hand, grip tighter to keep from slipping. He makes a desperate noise. Jongdae's waist looks devastatingly small bracketed by his overly large hands. His head spins, "Fuck, you feel _so good_."

"Yeah?" Jongdae asks, breathless from feeling so full, nerves still tingling from his recent orgasm, "I bet I'd feel better if you moved."

He clenches around Chanyeol for emphasis and smirks at the choked sound he lets out. That smirk disappears completely, sharp edges of his mouth rounding with a shout as Chanyeol, properly goaded, pulls out until only the head of his cock is holding Jongdae open and thrusts back in, deep and hard. The next thrust is the same, Jongdae given no reprieve to catch his breath before it's punched out of him once more. By the fifth, Jongdae is hard again, an ache of arousal stemming from deep in his stomach and suffusing throughout his body. Chanyeol has a look of concentration on his face, swollen bottom lip between his teeth and eyebrows pinched in pleasure and Jongdae wants nothing more than to have that reddened mouth on his own.

"Chan," Jongdae's voice comes out wrecked, "Kiss me." 

Chanyeol does, leaning over him, forearms pressing into the mattress as he slots his lips to Jongdae's, close-mouthed but nevertheless enough to make their heads spin. His rhythm doesn't let up, fucking into Jongdae smoothly, eased by the lube. The change in angle pushes Chanyeol's cock right into his prostate and Jongdae's mouth falls open into a moan, his ankles skidding over the bumps of Chanyeol's spine as he tries to urge him to go faster.

"More, god, more," Jongdae whimpers against lips, digging his nails into Chanyeol's back as his head tilts back into the sheets. The ridges of Chanyeol's abs rub against his cock so nicely and the dual onslaught of pleasure has his whimpers morphing into moans.

Chanyeol licks along his jaw, panting, warm breath washing over his skin. His body feels like it's been lit aflame, the heat of Jongdae's own body, small, lithe, beautiful, beneath him does nothing to cool him down. Every wanton sound torn from Jongdae's mouth feels like a shot of gasoline injected straight into his veins, demanding him to go harder, deeper, faster into the tight heat, but he holds strong, pace unchanging and steady.

"Faster please, please," Jongdae fucks himself back onto his cock, meeting him with enough force to know that he'll have bruises on the back of his thighs caused by the repeated slam of hip bones onto supple skin. When there's no change, just a steadiness that teases, like his veins are _just_ about to boil, _just_ short of enough, he expresses his frustration in the form of red lines scratched down shoulder blades, " _Faster_ , fuck Chanyeol _please_."

Chanyeol hisses at the sting. A flare of something sadistic curls in his gut and suddenly, an arm slips beneath Jongdae to pull him close and then, _they're rolling_ . Jongdae's now on top, a tad bewildered and _very much turned on_ because he was just moved around like he weighed nothing. 

"If you want more so badly, you're going to have to work for it," Chanyeol punctuates his sentence with teeth scraping Jongdae's earlobe, licking at the gold hoop and tugging ever so slightly. Jongdae makes a noise between a whimper and a pained groan, the words like a punch to the gut. He pushes up so he's straddling Chanyeol, so quickly he nearly gives himself whiplash and _oh_ , that feels so fucking good. Gravity is on his side, Chanyeol's cock pressing so impossibly deep it has him clenching just to _feel_. 

The way Chanyeol breathes a low _shit_ and grabs at Jongdae's hips spurs Jongdae on, using his thighs to lift himself up, a slow drag, relishing in every inch with half lidded eyes and hands braced on Chanyeol's abs. Nothing could prepare him for the drop down, slamming his cock so much _deeper_ than before, pressing into his prostate, curling his toes, pushing out a gasp. Chanyeol throws his head back as Jongdae rides him with fervor. Well muscled thighs have Jongdae chasing a pace that was denied to him, chasing that amount that will turn the ripples in his gut into swelling waves. Sweat accumulates beneath his palms and the skin of Chanyeol's stomach. He fucks himself into Chanyeol's cock much faster, much harder, driving into the spot that has him keening. 

Wanting more, greedy, he tilts his hips forward, allowing the head of Chanyeol's cock to grind up against his prostate, causing his own cock to leak onto the abs beneath it with a _throb_. 

"Fuck Chan, you feel so good," Jongdae gasps out, letting his head tip back and his eyes close at the wonderful and incessant sensation.

"How good?" Chanyeol asks, all rasp, akin to gravel and melted wax that drips down your spine. Hands slide down from narrow hips to cup a round ass and squeeze, Chanyeol awed at how the generous swell fills his hand. 

"So so good,” a low needy hum, “so fucking—”

His praise cuts off with a high, debauched sound as fingers trail even lower, down the curve of his ass to where Chanyeol’s fucking him open, teasing, pressing, at his slick rim. Chanyeol feels himself drag in and out of him, feels the way he stretches him open. Jongdae curls into himself, head hanging, thighs burning, cock aching. Aching to be taken in hand, jerked off until he comes all over Chanyeol’s stomach, his chest. But he’s not allowed to so he slows down to a grind that brings relief to his protesting, tired thighs while still rubbing against his sweet spot just right. 

“Fuck you’re so beautiful,” Chanyeol’s praise is breathy, trailing off into a moan that seems to vibrate into the very marrow of Jongdae’s bones. Jongdae looks at him from beneath bangs hanging low over his eyes, cheeks flushed, mouth parted with short, quick, trembling breaths. 

Chanyeol’s hit with a want so potent, so consuming it _hurts_ . A want, a _need_ , for the man who’s falling to pieces in front of him, _because of him_. For the person he loves most in the world, for the person he’d do anything for. It has Chanyeol’s hips moving of their own accord, thrusting upwards just as Jongdae’s coming down and meeting him halfway and it tears the loudest sound of the night from Jongdae’s throat, Chanyeol’s own moan lower, harmonizing.

Jongdae pushes through the exhaustion in his legs, pushes through the pleasure that seems to make him want to melt and tremble, riding with purpose, with the intent to draw more of those sounds from Chanyeol but also chase his own. He’s not allowed to come, cause Chanyeol hasn’t said he could. He’s not allowed, not allowed, not allowed—

But the addition of Chanyeol gripping his hips to push him _down_ onto his cock along with him planting his feet into the mattress and driving _up_ , has his orgasm climbing at an alarming pace.

“Can I come?” Jongdae practically sobs out, holding on by sheer force of will, pace still frantic.

“Not yet,” Chanyeol grits out and Jongdae really does sob, “Hold on a sec.”

And Chanyeol’s flipping them over onto the bed, pulling Jongdae’s legs back around him and _thrusting_ . Jongdae can barely scream before Chanyeol is railing him hard and fast, pace unforgiving enough to have Jongdae at the brink of coming all over himself in a second, before Chanyeol just _stops_. 

“ _No_ ,” Jongdae groans so painfully he can feel the walls of his throat protest. The receding of his orgasm is so torturous, so slow, it steals his breath, his sanity. The head of Chanyeol’s cock is pressed into his prostate, enough to have him gut-wrenchingly aroused, to not allow it to ebb completely, kept _right there_ , but it’s just not enough.

“ _No,”_ his whisper is pathetic, broken.

“Shh,” Chanyeol leans over to hush him and mouth at his cheek. All Jongdae can do is tilt his head for a weak kiss, lazy, desperate, more tongue than anything else. All the while, Chanyeol grabs his wrists and pins them above his head, Jongdae completely pliant as he holds them there with only one hand. The other comes to cup his jaw, running his thumb over his bottom lip for a brief moment as he stares into Jongdae’s eyes, taking in his dazed, ruined expression, heart swelling his chest. 

Then, his hand curls around the column of Jongdae’s throat. Chanyeol can feel the spike in Jongdae’s pulse beneath his fingers, can feel the gasp travel through his throat, sees the flutter of his lashes, the parting of his lips, both feels and sees the way he arches into his hand, pressing himself into the promising touch even more.

A breath and Chanyeol’s fucking him again, so quick, hard, one hand pinning both his wrists to the bed, the other around his throat, just how Jongdae likes it. He knows his body well, having spent hours upon hours upon hours discovering it, playing with it, exploring it and so he tightens his fingers around his throat at the same time he snaps his hips forward, cutting off a gasp as pleasure fills Jongdae’s lower stomach, giving Jongdae what he wants. The lightheaded feeling stabs into the pleasure, creating a mixture that has Jongdae arching off the bed.

It’s akin to a drug, tingling in his veins, utter euphoria mixed with a little panic but that only enhances the feeling. They’re contrasting: the bone deep ache stemming from his core that’s swelling so rapidly he can feel it in the tips of his fingers and toes, and the airy zing, a sharpness and a fullness as well as a possessiveness slithering into his veins at the feeling of Chanyeol’s hand pressing into his neck.

Apart, they’re heady. Together, they have Jongdae’s spine bowing completely off the mattress as liquid pleasure fills him to the brim. Chanyeol lets go and an utter _rush_ consumes Jongdae as he gasps in oxygen desperately, extending his orgasm, intensifying it to the point that tears fall from his eyes and he shakes, trembles, white noise consuming every one of his senses.

Chanyeol fucks him through it, mouth at his rapid thrum of a pulse as he comes all over his stomach and Chanyeol’s. The sight of Jongdae so utterly _ruined_ , unable to even utter a noise, voice caught in his throat, body arched beneath him, head thrown back as well as the way he’s clenching around him, rendering the heat and tightness of his body even _tighter_ , has him coming with a guttural moan. His hips stutter as he fills Jongdae with his come, digging his teeth into the side of his neck.

Heavy breaths fill the air, Jongdae's body coming down from its tense arch as Chanyeol soothes down his side, tries to ease the shakiness away. He lets go of Jongdae’s wrists. Jongdae makes no move to lift them from their position, too preoccupied with figuring out how to breathe. With a soft kiss to his collarbone, Chanyeol pushes back onto his knees, unwrapping trembling legs from his waist and pulling out. At the sudden feeling of emptiness, Jongdae snaps out of his daze with a shiver and looks at Chanyeol.

“God, you’re such a mess,” Chanyeol observes in awe. Jongdae has come spilled onto his stomach, dark marks littering his skin, but Chanyeol wants _more_ , wants him incoherent. It’s all too simple to slip two fingers back into him, to finger the come that had been leaking down the curve of his ass back into him. Jongdae gasps at the sensation. Chanyeol leans back to watch as his own come drips down his finger, till his wrist, as he lazily thrusts in and out, more teasing than anything else. But it’s not enough, he wants to _taste_.

He gets onto his front, legs half hanging off the edge of the bed. Jongdae watches, curious.

“What are yo—” a cry resounds as a hot tongue laves at his hole, hot, wet, tasting the saltiness of come and an undernote of lube. “ _Chan_.”

Fingers come to grip at Chanyeol’s hair, tugging enough to sting as his tongue dips into his hole and curls to bring more of the bitterness into his mouth. Jongdae pulls and presses down, as if he isn’t sure he wants more or wants less, so sensitive, _too_ sensitive. Chanyeol decides for him, bringing one leg over his shoulder and using a hand to spread his ass so he can that much lick deeper, the tiny broken noises falling into the air music to his ears. They act as a shot of adrenaline, encouraging, and he’s quick to wrap his hand around Jongdae’s hardening cock, pumping it to full hardness.

“ _Stop_ , too much,” but the way Jongdae’s hips jerk into the grip says something completely different. 

Painfully aroused. 

No other words could better define his current state. The movement of the hand on his cock _hurts_ , every upstroke making his toes curl, every downstroke drawing a whimper, but it also feels so _good_ : A sharp pleasure that digs its barbs into your skin, into your veins. The lewd wet sounds coming from between his legs make his skin burn. He feels the way Chanyeol licks at his rim, plunging his tongue in, swallowing his own come, eager, hungry. It’s so so wet, saliva, come, lube all leaking down the curve of his ass and pooling onto the sheets. 

“Come on Jongdae,” Chanyeol pauses to fuck his fingers back in, spreading them and licking between them, collecting more come on his tongue and allowing it to slide down his throat. Jongdae sobs when he curls them and flicks his wrist just right, using the precome to slicken the slide of his hand. 

“I can’t, I can’t,” Jongdae gasps, the drag of his impending orgasm slow, torturous, stealing his breath. It’s just this side of _pleasure-pain_ , too sharp but also too good. “I _can’t_.”

“You will,” Chanyeol pulls his mouth away to kiss at the inside of Jongdae’s thigh, lick at the blue hues of the bite mark. He waits for a response and it comes in the form of a wrecked moan. He takes that as implied encouragement and dives back in, eating Jongdae out with wet licks and sucking at the rim to get whatever’s left of the come out as Jongdae cants his hips to get more, more, so much more it has his toes curling in the air. The shaking in the latter’s thighs combined with the way his abdomen is pulled taut, and the litany of _chan, chan, chan_ , are clear indications of how close he is. 

Chanyeol increases his efforts, fingering him with precision, curling into his sweet spot, unrelenting. He lifts his head and returns to kiss his inner thigh, jerking him off with ease, hand slick, preferring to watch as Jongdae inevitably comes undone. And oh, what a pretty sight it is.

Jongdae struggles with it, as if trying to stop it, writhing into the sheets, digging his nails into Chanyeol’s bicep and clutching at the sheets with his other hand, before it overwhelms him and he goes stiff. His brows lift in the center and furrow, mouth parting to let out a choked off version of Chanyeol's name as he comes over Chanyeol's hand, pathetic spurts that drip down and add to the mess on his stomach. The aftershocks are that much stronger, intensified by the fingers in his ass and the come slick hand on his cock that don't let up even after the last one ebbs and flows through his body. The overstimulation has Jongdae trying to squirm away but he's pinned, a forearm pressing his hips down and then a hot mouth comes to _suck around the head of his cock_ and he sobs full bodily, trying to push Chanyeol's head away.

"No, stop, stop," he curls into himself, abdomen clenched tight and it's too much, the suction, the head, the fingers still pressing into his prostate, the way Chanyeol licks into the slit, the taste of Jongdae’s come and his own mixin on his tongue, and he feels like he's going to pass out, like his gasps are unable to pull enough air. " _Chanyeol stop."_

He does, pulling off with a farewell lick that has Jongdae keening through a shudder and pulling out despite the way Jongdae's ass clenches around him as if to keep him from going, to keep something in him. Jongdae pants, utterly shaking and wrecked beyond comprehension, body still tense, still strung so tight like if it forgot how to relax. 

Chanyeol's heart squeezes in his chest.

"Baby," He says so softly, so fondly. He takes Jongdae in his arms, fitting him in his lap and pulling him close, rubbing up and down his arm. "Jongdae, my love."

Jongdae makes a small noise at that, exhaling into the crook of his neck. He's too dazed to offer more than that, too preoccupied with not melting out of his skin. The warmth of skin against his helps, the warmth of _Chanyeol’s_ skin, the safe hold of _Chanyeol’s_ arms that hold him so tightly. It’s grounding and he tries to focus on breathing in sync with him, every inhale accompanied by the slight smell of sweat, of sex, of vanilla, of Chanyeol, of _home_. 

“Jongdae, you were so good,” Chanyeol kisses at the crown of his head, murmuring sweet nothings to him, deep voice like a blanket of comfort over Jongdae’s skin. Jongdae’s trembles slowly abate as they sit there, abate enough for him conjure enough brain power to bury his face deeper into Chanyeol’s neck. He somehow unglues his tongue from the roof of his mouth. 

“Chan,” His voice is croaky, scratching at his throat.

Chanyeol squeezes his bicep, “Yes my love?”

“M’cold,” He says trying to curl deeper into the warmth radiating from Chanyeol and away from the way the air that is too cool against his overheated skin.

He’s pulled closer still, “Do you want to take a bath?”

“Please.”

Chanyeol carries him to the bathroom, obvious to the both of them that his legs aren’t exactly in working order. He grabs a fluffy robe that’s hanging by the door as he passes by and wraps it around Jongdae’s shoulders for some warmth when he sets him down on the marble sink countertop.

“I’m just going to go fill the tub okay?” Chanyeol says softly, eyes scanning over Jongdae’s face for any sign of protest. Jongdae nods and says a quiet little _okay_ and Chanyeol leaves his side with a kiss to his temple. The former watches as Chanyeol plays with the faucets, dipping his hand beneath the running water to test the temperature. Once it's optimal—warm but not so warm the difference in temperature is shocking—he plugs the drain and allows it to fill. He skips any added fragrance or oils this time, not wanting to overwhelm Jongdae’s senses.

When he pads over to Jongdae, Jongdae immediately latches onto him, letting out a shuddering and relieved sigh when he’s back in his hold. Chanyeol squeezes tight, running his hand up and down Jongdae’s spine through the soft fabric of the robe a few before he pulls back to look at Jongdae with concern.

“How are you feeling?” The intensity of his gaze has Jongdae swallowing heavily.

“I’m okay.” 

Despite Jongdae’s words, Chanyeol still pushes his chin up to inspect his neck. There’s a clear redness in the shape of his hand curving around it but it’s light enough for him to know that it should fade by the morning. The marks on the other hand...Those aren’t going away anytime soon, littering either side of his neck. An especially dark one sits where his neck meets the expanse of his shoulder; a product of him biting down too hard. They spread to his collarbones. A few are scattered down his torso. Chanyeol runs his hands over those reverently, Jongdae’s skin jumping at the light touch.

He presses his lips to a few, possession curling in his stomach but also liquid love because god does Jongdae look beautiful as he sighs, pleased. After allowing himself to marvel for a moment, Chanyeol moves onto his wrists, immediately able to tell that they’re going to bruise, the shape of his fingers already deeply imprinted into the skin. Between those and the red left behind by the rub of rope, he can’t help the splash of worry in his chest.

“Do they hurt?” Chanyeol asks, lightly stroking over the worst of it with his thumb—just over the small bone of his wrist; the raised spot had taken the brunt of the press of the rope—as he holds Jongdae’s wrists in his hands.

“Just a little but I’ll be fine,” Jongdae manages a small smile and a shake of his head, “Promise.”

Chanyeol surges up to kiss him, so full of love he needs an outlet and pours it all into the press of his lips, deep, breathtaking but still chaste. Jongdae responds less intensely, languid, lax and still somewhat reeling. They part and Chanyeol sets about checking over the rest of him. Besides muscle deep soreness, a watercolour of blues and purples contrasting pale skin, Jongdae is fine overall, if exhausted and drained to his very core.

When the tub is filled, Chanyeol helps Jongdae over with an arm around his waist, supporting him as he walks on unsteady legs. He eases him into the tub after pushing the robe off his shoulders and letting it fall to the floor. Just like earlier this evening, Jongdae scoots forward so Chanyeol can slip in behind him and tug him to his chest. He sighs, turning to the side so he can rest his cheek on Chanyeol's chest, comforted by the feeling of his heartbeat against it, by the sound of it too.

The water around him has him going lax, the temperature just right to calm his shivers, untense his muscles, enveloped in a calming and gentle heat. It makes him that much more tired as he soaks in it, feeling safe, comforted. At the same time, his head clears a little, the hazy fog somewhat lifted and his thoughts feel less like they're dragging themselves through a thick sludge. All the while, Chanyeol pets his hair, the action causing his eyes to close.

"Chanyeol?" Jongdae says into the quiet atmosphere. One thought is the clearest, filling his head, his heart to the brim. The swirl of intense emotion has him taking in a deep breath.

"Yes?"

"I love you," his voice is just above a whisper, rough, but Chanyeol hears it like it was screamed off a rooftop. He tightens his hold, draws him so close until he's flush against him, like he never wants to let go. He's sure that he can live happily with the love of his life in his arms if that's the case. 

"I love you too, so much," he whispers into his hair with reverence and shivers at the following press of lips to his sternum.

They spend a decent amount of time like that, curled into each other, Jongdae unsure of exactly how much has passed since his perception of time is dodgy at best, not to mention that he's on the brink of succumbing to sleep. After the water becomes a noticeable amount cooler but still nice, Chanyeol urges him into a sitting position and laughs a little at the tiny sound of protest Jongdae let's out.

"We need to get clean so we can go to bed," Chanyeol explains and Jongdae relents because, okay, being clean does sound nice and going to bed sounds even nicer. Chanyeol washes his hair, fingers digging into scalp and Jongdae struggles to keep himself from melting into a puddle right then and there. He rinses the suds with the small showerhead before going through a superficial clean with a delicate soap, scrubbing off the cum on Jongdae’s stomach, taking care of the mess between his thighs. He cleans himself quickly, concluding that they can take a proper shower tomorrow morning when Jongdae doesn't look a second away from passing out. 

When he deems them clean enough, he presses a kiss behind Jongdae's ear.

"I need to go change the sheets.” 

At Jongdae’s small hum of acknowledgement, Chanyeol shimmies out from behind him and gets out. He dries himself off before heading to the bedroom. Jongdae leans his cheek against the side of the tub as he waits, cool porcelain pleasing against his skin. His mind floats as he absentmindedly stares into the water, still with the his lack of movement. Chanyeol is back in record time with a large fluffy towel in hand.

Jongdae peers up at him, mouth stretching into a tired grin, “Help me out?”

“Of course your majesty,” Chanyeol pretends to be annoyed, rolling his eyes with a huff but is at his side in two seconds flat, offering a hand which Jongdae takes with a small laugh. The moment he’s out, softness envelops him as Chanyeol wraps him in the towel. He holds him close for a tiny bit before he dries him well, knowing that Jongdae hates sleeping in wet sheets.

“Any other request my king?” The sarcasm is accompanied with a grossly fond smile, so the effect of it is dampened. 

“Carry me,” Jongdae jokes but he doesn’t protest as he’s lifted, resting his cheek on Chanyeol’s shoulder, all too happy to not have to do anything requiring physical effort. When he’s deposited on the bed, he uses his hold around Chanyeol’s neck to pull him down on top of him. The new sheets are Egyptian cotton—1000 thread count—and it’s akin to lying on a cloud, soft against his skin, as pillowy as Chanyeol’s bottom lip when he lazily kisses him, all soft licks and tiny breaths. Chanyeol moves his mouth to press against his cheek and pulls the covers over both of them. 

“I love you,” He whispers, declares again, once they’re settled, legs tangled, ankles against shins, even though there is no one in the room besides them. Jongdae has his head buried in Chanyeol’s chest, their fingers intertwined on his sternum.

“I love you too,” He whispers back, observing their hands, Chanyeol’s utterly swallowing his own. He runs his thumb across a knuckle. The arm around him draws him closer and he wills himself to breathe through the overwhelming surge of _love_. He melts into the hold, into the mattress, exhaustion weighing down his bones and threatening to force his eyelids shut. The soothing caress up and down his spine, as well as Chanyeol untangling their fingers to thumb over his wrist bone lulls him further.

“Sleep love,” Chanyeol’s voice vibrates beneath his cheek and ultimately, Jongdae succumbs, allowing sleep to blanket him. Chanyeol follows not long after, feeling utterly at peace.

__

  


The next morning, Jongdae wakes with a groan, an ache anchored into his muscles, still dead tired despite having slept for a good ten hours. Chanyeol’s already awake, reading while he lets use him as a human pillow.

“There’s no way I’m leaving my bed today,” Jongdae complains, voice muffled by the fact that he’s managed to bury his entire face into the chest beneath him. He looks up at Chanyeol after a few moments of groaning, glare accusing, the curled corners of his mouth downturned in annoyance. “Fuck you, you’re such an asshole. I don’t even know what part of me hurts, I’m just aching _everywhere_.”

Chanyeol puts down his book on the bedside table to pull Jongdae upwards, slotting his mouth to his, disgustingly fond.

“What? No ‘thank you for being such an amazing boyfriend and making me come _three_ times in one night?’” Chanyeol says against his lips and enjoys the way Jongdae shudders at the reminder.

“That was only _after_ you didn’t allow me to come. _Twice_.”

Chanyeol shuts him up with more kisses and a _you liked it though_. After Jongdae’s lips are swollen and wet once more, he tells Chanyeol to inform his advisor to postpone all his duties for the day, certain that he doesn’t even have the energy to even turn over.

Besides, he’s due for an entire day in bed with his boyfriend, clothes not required. Minus the sex. He’s pretty sure that he doesn’t even want to _think_ about sex for the next month. He voices this to Chanyeol.

“I’ll give you a week,” Chanyeol says, dubious and quite cocky, “You know you can’t resist me.”

Jongdae retaliates with a pinch to his side, drawing a yelp, but doesn’t do anything to deny it because he’s right. Not that Chanyeol’s any better. Jongdae simply pouts at having been called out and it has Chanyeol slotting his mouth to his again, a Pavlovian response, kissing the pout right off of him.

Chanyeol’s looking forward to spending the rest of the day pulling soft sighs from him, massaging lotion into his skin and muscles when he inevitably complains, tasting the heavenly meals delivered to their room on his tongue, more than anything. The icing on the cake is that one of Jongdae’s postponed duties was lunch with the King of the East: Minseok. He has Jongdae all to himself for another day.   



End file.
